"Jake, what has happened? Where's the baby? Oh-h!"
"Bobby—all—a—gone. Him—the Bull take a baby! Him gone away."
Again the universe began to spin about her, but she refused to faint a second time. Feeling her way to the door, Angella Loring went out again into the bitter cold to the barn, where the mare with her new colt whinnied as she slipped the stock saddle across its back. She trapped the colt in an adjoining stall, and then as she got on the mare's back, she whispered:
"Go quickly, Daisy, or you'll not get back to your baby soon."
There was a long snorting whinny from Daisy—a cry of protest at being taken from her colt—indignantly answered by the little one.
The nearest telephone was five miles from Angella's ranch, and when she rode into the farm yard, in spite of the intense cold, the mare was sweating from her wild race across the country. The astonished farmer who led Angella to the 'phone—it was the first time she had been known to step inside any of their houses—stayed by the door and listened with pricked-up ears as the excited woman called Dr. McDermott at Springbank. By a merciful chance he was there, and a few moments later the farmer was helping his strange visitor to a seat, and calling loudly to his wife for help. For again Angella Loring had fainted. Her first question when she opened her eyes and looked up at her neighbors' faces was:
"Has he come? Has Dr. McDermott come?"
And when they replied that he had not, she wrung her hands and broke into weak tears.